In The Lack of Acceptance
by Awkward Homo
Summary: Anna Summers moves with her two brothers Olaf and Kristoff to the rather posh Arendelle, Illinois. While struggling with high school, she manages to give herself bigger problems: Hans and Elsa Arendelle, who happen to be the wealthy descendants of the founder of the town. Now, Anna will be forced to choose between the ideal romance or a love harsher than jagged ice. (Elsanna AU)
1. First Day

**Anna**.

I never expect there to be simple, middle-class homes in _this_ town.

From what I have seen in my five-minute drive through town, Arendelle, Illinois, is _not_ middle-class. Massive lawns with lively gardens. Gargantuan mansions. Hell, I haven't seen a McDonald's since I entered the area. Arendelle is absolutely lavish, with affluent citizens practically controlling the place.

My eighteen-year-old brother Kristoff seems as amazed as I am. Although he is the one driving, he is completely inattentive to the road; instead, he's gazing around, as if the houses just like the ones back in suburban New York are downright spectacular. The warm August air is drifting inside through the open window beside him, yet is wearing what he would usually wear back in New York: A beanie, dark jeans, and a hoodie. His shaggy, blonde hair falls over his eyes.

I crane my neck to look behind me. My ten-year-old brother Olaf is rambling on about how summer never ceases to fascinate him. His dark brown hair is sticking up in places and his charcoal eyes are focused on me now. He can talk endlessly, especially if the topic is summer. He adores the sun and the warm weather that much. I, on the other hand, only ramble when I am nervous.

I glimpse at the two brothers and shake my head. Sometimes it is difficult to believe that we are related because our appearances do not resemble one another's. Kristoff has unkempt blonde hair and a somewhat tan complexion, while Olaf is pale and has contrasting dark hair (and a rather large nose, but we do not mention that to him). While they both share the same amber eyes, mine are a dingy blue-green. I am gifted with the same tan complexion, but I also have auburn-red hair with a single blonde streak on the right side. My hair can become a little unruly a times, so I usually contain it with braiding it into two pigtails. Freckles dot my cheeks and the bridge of my nose; of course, I am the only member of the Summers family with embarrassing traits: Clumsiness, what Kristoff calls "an unbearable sunny disposition," and the infuriating habit of rambling when I am nervous.

Kristoff elbows my left side. "This is great, isn't it?" he questions. "I mean, we aren't living in one of those gigantic mansions..." He trails off and bites his lip. "Yeah, we aren't living in one of those gigantic mansions."

"But it's summer!" Olaf points out ecstatically. He is grinning from ear to ear. "Swimming pools and beaches and ice cream and sun! Put me in the sun and I'll be a..." He pauses, seemingly deep in thought. Then his expression brightens and he exclaims, "Happy snowman!"

Kristoff chuckles, casting a sidelong glance at me. "He knows what happen to snowmen in the sun, right?" he asks in a low voice.

"Don't you _dare_ tell him," I warn through gritted teeth.

Kristoff shakes his head, disregarding the subject, and directs his attention towards the road. "All jokes aside, isn't this fantastic?" He sighs contentedly. "We're free-we're finally free. I'm training to become a veterinarian"-he has always has a passion for caring after animals-"and Olaf is starting fifth grade. And damn, you're sixteen already. You're already in your sophomore year of high school."

The thought sinks into the pit of my stomach-not the fact that I am in my third year of high school, but the fact that I will be attending a new school in two days. Arendelle High, apparently. Judging by the imposing houses and the innumerable sports cars I have spotted since this drive, school will most likely be difficult at first. I am not one to give up, though; Kristoff states that my unwavering determination is an irritating trait of mine. On the other hand, I believe it is a major advantage. When I want something, I will work at it relentlessly until I receive it, regardless of what obstacles lie in the way.

In fact, I was the one who suggested we move to escape our drunkard father. He was dangerously violent, almost sending Olaf in a permanent slumber with a kitchen knife once. That's when Kristoff and I decided enough was enough.

And now I am here.

In addition, I strongly believe that everything works out in the end. History cannot be unwritten, and so can't my disturbing childhood. Before the move, everything took a deep plunge. But means life has to gradually glide up from here on.

I glance out the window. The sun is casting down a glorious light; the sky is a deep blue, not a single cloud to be seen. The perfect view if I am traveling up.

XXX

Once we arrive at our new home (a one-story white house with a black roof), I pick out my room. Since this house is not as lavish as the others, there are only three bedrooms. They are in the same hallway and are practically the same size. I pick out the one closest to the bathroom for the sake of convenience.

My Converse slap onto the hardwood flood as I haul my heavy suitcases into my new room. I have five total: Two containing clothing, one containing stuff for my bedroom, one containing toiletries (ahem, _womanly necessities_), and the final one crammed with school supplies. (Arendelle High is incredibly demanding!)

Kristoff is going to retrieve a few boxes with my other belongings. However, as I study my room, it does not take long for me to realize that it is completely unfurnished. No bed, no desk, just a window looking into the backyard and white walls that vaguely remind me of snow.

I shudder. I never favored snow because I would inevitably slip on it and injure myself. And afterwards, I would blubber on and on about how embarrassed I would be, only humiliating myself further.

I am _so_ lucky Kristoff brought the air mattresses.

I amble out into the hallway, crinkling my nose is distaste at the alien new house scent.

I carefully make my way down the hall, taking note of my surroundings. If I go down the hallway and take a left, I will be the the kitchen. I'm grateful that the kitchen has basic necessities: Counters, sink, dishwasher, stove, and the fridge (the fridge is a number one priority). The kitchen is connected to the living room with an arch.

I stride into the carpeted living room, smiling fondly at Olaf looking out the large window.

"What're you looking at?" I question, walking beside him. The window allows a view of the backyard; I notice an oak tree towering over the house, its highest branches probably able to graze the top of one of those fancy mansions.

Olaf's eyes are gleaming with interest. "Summer," he states simply, his voice hushed in utter awe. "I don't want it to end. What if Dad returns when summer ends?"

I rub his back soothingly as Kristoff walks through the front door, grunting as he carries a stack of boxes. "Olaf, that's not going to happen," I reassure my youngest brother. "I mean, summer's going to end like it always does, but I'm certain Dad won't return. He doesn't know where we are right now. Plus, he's a bad person, and the police are probably gonna get to him real soon. Promise."

Immediately Olaf gives me a toothless grin. My heart warms at his cheerfulness; he's an optimistic boy and does not allow anything to bring him down. Kristoff constantly jokes that Olaf and I will share the same "unbearable sunny disposition," which I don't mind. I kind of understand why Olaf scares children his age away; he's quite intimate, which makes many uncomfortable. Olaf's signature greeting "I'm Olaf and I like warm hugs" has shooed away numerous potential friends.

"Anna, let's play outside!" he cries out, snatching my hand and dragging my down the halls. I nearly knock over Kristoff, who is still carrying to heavy boxes.

He curses. "Anna!"

I stick my tongue out at him and Kristoff's peeved expression disappears from my line of vision as I turn a corner.

XXX

I have to crane my neck back to properly look at my new high school.

Arendelle High is a massive brick building, three stories high. Huge windows peer into the cafeteria, while smaller windows look into classrooms. ARENDELLE HIGH is carved onto the side of the building, right beside the entrance. And this is just the front of the building; according to the school website, they own two track fields, two football fields, two soccer fields, and a swimming pool. _Why the hell is this not a private school?_

Students are filing into the building, casually chatting. Meanwhile, newcomers are staring at the building in amazement and/or fear.

I gulp and shoulder my black backpack and lift up the paper Hollister bag (I scribbled over the shirtless guy with Sharpie). Then, hesitantly, I follow the crowd into my new life.

Most of the students are already acquainted with the building, so they nonchalantly amble about. However, I have no knowledge whatsoever and am extremely uncoordinated. I keep bumping into students and stupidly apologizing afterwards. I receive reprimanded looks in return.

_Did I dress too casual?_ I study my outfit-green t-shirt, purple sweatshirt jeans, black Converse-and then observe other students' clothes. Name brand clothing, fancy sneakers, and gleaming jewelry. I shake my head in disapproval.

Struggling to keep hold of the paper bag, I round a corner. My locker number and combination is written on my left hand, but the paper bag is too heavy to carry with one hand. I groan and plow against the wave of students.

Before I round another corner, I decide to check my hand. I cautiously remove my left hand and the weight of the bag alone on my right hand nearly sends me crashing down. Luckily, I maintain my balance and chuckle nervously at the students casting me strange looks.

Once I round the corner, however, I collide with a body, and the bottom of the bag tears. My school supplies pour out like a waterfall, scattered by inconsiderate students.

I yelp in panic and scurry over to to the heap of my belongings, hastily apologizing as I desperately gather them into a somewhat neat pile. Apologizing once again, I clumsily shove everything into the ruptured bag. I grab the bottom of the bag to prevent any more things from falling out and rush to the side.

The hallway is beginning to clear as a man orders for everyone to accumulate in the gymnasium. He is extremely tall and wide-set with a thick mustache. The nametag pinned to his striped shirt reads MR. OAKEN. Although he looks very intimidating, he takes me by surprise when he says in a gentle, high-pitched voice, "Hoo hoo! Along to the gym, now, children! Excited for school, yah?"

"Ugh, Mr. Oaken really needs to learn how to communicate with teenagers," a female voice mutters.

I glance up and am met by a pair of light blue flats. My gaze travels up, and my heart nearly stops beating altogether.

A girl with unbelievably pale skin is looking down at me. I assume that she is a teacher because her hair seems to be white, but as my vision refocuses, I determine it as a platinum blonde. Her hair is messily braided, unconfined strands framing her face perfectly. Her eyes are blue like mine, but they're a different shade of blue-an extremely pallid blue, the kind that vaguely reminds me of ice. Actually, her whole outfit gives off an icy aura: Light blue pullover and white jeans. She is so pale that the lack of color almost makes my eyes burn. The only contrasting color are her pink lips, and they are perked up in a self-assured grin.

A terrifyingly familiar feeling is stirring in the pit of my stomach. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks-and elsewhere-as I'm staring at her lips, longing for something I don't quite understand.

I realize that I'm blatantly staring at her. Face red with embarrassment, I immediately leap to my feet. However, the gorgeous girl decides to bend over to assist me at the same moment so we end up bumping heads. She winces and rubs the left side of her head.

My jaw drops in astonishment. "I am _so_ sorry!" I blabber. "Argh, I'm new here and I'm ridiculously clumsy and it gets me into a lot of shit and I am super duper sorry for all of this! I didn't mean to run into you, I just wasn't paying attention because I was trying to read what's on my left hand-by the way"-I impulsively hold out my left hand, accidentally hitting her smack dab on the center of her nose-"_holy shit, I am so, so, so sorry_-"

The girl pinches the bridge of her nose with her right hand and holds up her other to silence me. I instantly clamp my mouth shut, my face burning red.

"It's okay," she reassures me; her tone does not sound forced in any way, which surprises me. She shoves her right hand in her pocket, smiling awkwardly. "I'll be fine."

I smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." The gorgeous girl leans back against the wall, shaking her head in amusement. "Are you scared of failing?"

I give her a weak smile. "Well, it's my first day. I don't want to make a bad impression."

She cocks her head, and my heart seems to beat faster. "You don't look like a freshman."

"I'm not. I'm a sophomore; I'm just a new student."

She folds her arms. "Ah, I see." She smiles, and there is this strange sensation in my heart, like I am at the highest peak of a roller coaster and spiraling down. "Five dash three hundred fifty-six."

I raise an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Five dash three hundred fifty-six," she repeats. "Your locker number. Your combo is eighty-three dash ninety-four dash ten." She smirks and the weird sensation reoccurs, more prominent this time. "Do you know how to open your locker?"

I scoff. "Why wouldn't I?"

She gives me a knowing look, as if to say, _I've known you for less than five minutes and I'm already aware that you're a fuck-up._

I sigh in defeat. "I don't have a damn clue," I confess wearily.

She motions for to follow her, her icy eyes twinkling. "Follow me then. I'll help you." Without allowing me to reply, she turns around and begins walking.

I bite my lip and my no-no square heats up at the sight of her rear. I shake my head vigorously. _Oh my God, Anna, not now._

I jog in order to catch up to her. I cannot help but admire something else besides her butt: The way she walks. She stands tall and with a noticeable confidence. Her head is held high and her hips sway. The few students wandering the halls instinctively move aside at the sight of her. I may not possess any, but confidence is extremely attractive.

I gaze up at her (she's at least three inches taller than me) and inquire, "So...why are you helping me? Not that I'm ungrateful, I'm just curious."

"'Cause you look pathetic."

I feel a pang deep in my chest. I furrow my eyebrows together in confusion. "Oh."

She shakes her head and places her hand on my shoulder. My entire arm tenses at her touch and my heart is thumping against my ribs. My breath hitches in my throat. "Don't take anything I say to heart," she informs me, her eyes darkening due to her pupils dilating. "And it's because we're both sophomores. Also, I try to be a decent human being, unlike my brother." She turns a corner and I follow, now intrigued.

"Is your brother a dick?" I question, and then recognize the error in the wording. "Erm, I didn't mean to call your brother a-"

"Dick?" The girl snorts. "'Dick' is an understatement. By the way, here's your locker." She pokes a beige locker beside a water fountain and cracks a small smile.

My heart drops when I realize that I'm done talking to her. I do not want to stop talking to her; for some reason, I long to have more conversations with her, preferably more _personal_ ones...

I inwardly shudder at my abnormal thoughts. _God, you're such a pervert._

The gorgeous girl eyes me momentarily, a lopsided smile plastered onto her face. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you."

I blush and reply, "Ditto."

My eyes widen and she giggles, "You're so awkward it's adorable."

I'm certain my face is a fiery red now. "Thanks. You too!" I mentally facepalm myself. "No, no, no! I mean, you are adorable, but it's not because you're awkward! You're so confident it's attractive-like, _extremely_ attractive. Like, _damn_." I berate myself in my head and mutter, "You know what, I'll shut up now."

Instead of looking at me in disgust as I was anticipating, her cheeks are tinged a pale pink-is she _blushing_?

She recomposes herself, clearing her throat and assuming an imposing stance. However, there is something different: Her stance is rigid, her muscles tense instead of relaxed like they were earlier. "Thank you," she acknowledges stiffly.

My eyebrows knit together and I bite my lip. Awkwardly, I hold out my hand and say, "I guess I should introduce myself. Anna Summers."

She studies my hand skeptically. Something flashes in her eyes: Fear? Guilt? Shame? It makes my heart sink nonetheless.

She tentatively grips my hand (my heart skips a beat) and shakes it firmly. "Elsa. Elsa Arendelle."

It takes me a second to register her last name. _Arendelle..._

"Arendelle? Oh..."

She nods curtly. "My great-something grandmother founded this town. So...yeah."

She does not boast; in fact, she seems ashamed. "Doesn't that make you rich, then?" I question, and before I can apologize, a male voice says, "Extremely wealthy, actually."

I turn around and am met by a tall, well-built male. His dark brown hair is tousled artfully, as if he wanted it to look like he woke up and did not fix his hair. His brown eyes are fixated on me, his stare hungry and harsh. He's slightly tan and wearing a blue button down. The insufferable scent of Axe reeks from him; I suppress a cough.

He is smirking at me. Suddenly, he grabs me by the waist and pulls me in close, but not that close. "I'm Hans. Hans Arendelle," he greets smoothly, his hot breath burning my face.

_The asshole brother_. "I'm Anna. Anna Summers," I introduce, chuckling uncomfortably. I glimpse back at Elsa; her hands are clenched tightly and her eyes are narrowed in a sharp glare. She's infuriated, I can tell, but why? I stifle a grin when I wonder if she is jealous.

I put a hand on his chest and push him back, furthering the distance between us. "Nice meeting you."

He releases me and grins. "It was a _pleasure_ meeting you."

"Okay, Hans, that's enough," Elsa snaps, storming over to us and clutching my arm. My arm tenses and the awkward emotions in my heart intensify. "You're making her uncomfortable."

As Hans argues with his sister, she drags me away, fuming.

In hopes of lightening the mood, I state, "You two look nothing alike."

She looks at me grimly, and I know I have made a mistake.

Finally, she sighs and diverts her gaze. "Good. He's a sleaze. I don't want to share anything in common with him."

I purse my lips. Sure, Hans was a bit forward, but he is charming and handsome. I would not be surprised if girls were throwing themselves to him.

"Is he single?" I blurt out.

Elsa halts, her jaw tightening. She stares me in shock and fury and...hurt? The pain in her eyes is evident: They are glassy and dark. "Yes," she replies flatly. She lets go of my arm and says, "Anyway, I'll lead you to the gym."

She strides down the hallway, her formerly confident posture now slouched.

I decide to not say anything and follow, two emotions swirling within me.

Anguish and admiration.

* * *

**A/N: How do you like it? I recently watched Frozen for the first time, and I absolutely adore Elsanna. I wanted to write this in a high school setting though, because I could relate to it more and I felt as if others could as well. So, I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. The Garden on the Roof

**Elsa.**

The anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth-an exercise that always soothes my anger. I hear Anna's footsteps behind me, but I cannot gather the strength to glance back.

My brother infuriates me. He is a year older than me, and has been excessively spoiled right from the start. I mean, my family has an abundance of money, so I was spoiled as a child as well. However, although I was spoiled, I was _different_.

Hans has always been my parents' ideal child: Handsome, confident (he's more self-absorbed, in my opinion), and suave. On the contrary, I was hardheaded (I never enjoyed attending balls and would always rebel whenever I had to go to one), apparently untidy (I refused to wear any of the imperial clothing my mother purchased; I preferred more casual clothing), and "unfitting to maintain a civilization." The first two accusations I do not mind; the last one, however, I worry about endlessly.

Since my great-something grandmother established Arendelle, she was the mayor of it as well. Apparently females taking on positions of authority was such an achievement back in the 1800s, because the role of mayor is passed down to every female family member. The mayor cannot retire from her position until she grants the role to one of her daughters. My mother currently holds it, and since I am the only girl, I am supposed to be mayor next. I do not want to be responsible for this snobby-ass town, though. I have told my parents this many times (literally quoting those exact words), and they disapprove of my decision to not carry on the family tradition. I assume that is why they favor Hans more; although sleazy, he is obedient.

There is one more thing my parents would-_if they knew_-completely reject. To them, this idea is absolutely incredulous and disgusting. My conservative parents have discussed this topic numerous times, and they had no kind comments about the subject.

Homosexuality. Specifically, _my_ homosexuality.

As I mentioned previously, they are completely unaware of my perverted thoughts. I cannot tell them because they would freak out and most likely do something drastic, like disown me or ship me off to some correctional facility. For God's sake, at first, they would not even believe it. They would assume it would be some sick joke. Hell, _I_ don't even believe it. I _cannot_ be gay. My mind must be playing tricks on me. (Homo delusions?)

Yet, whenever I see an attractive girl-Anna, for example-my heart flutters. My head spins; I feel as if I cannot breathe. I am accustomed to faking a confident aura when I am feeling a rush of powerful emotions within. Occasionally I will break. The subject of my affection will sometimes be so captivating that I will completely lose my cool. I will blush (it is subtle, though, thanks to my pale complexion) and lose my confidence. I become an awkward, flustered mess.

That's when the fear strikes. The fear that my homosexuality will become evident. If it becomes obvious, I will be rejected. I will lose the dwindling respect my parents have for me, and I will definitely wreck my reputation. I cannot even accept the fact that I might be a lesbian right now. I constantly dismiss the revolting thoughts; to my frustration, they always linger in the back of my mind, returning at the worst possible times. I like to think of them as an annoying bee that buzzes in your ear during a wedding. And then stings you a million times.

My life motto is _Conceal, don't feel._ It is obvious why.

Then there's Hans. The deceptive, disreputable asshole of a sibling. People often mistake him for being confident, when in reality he is conceited. There's a fine line between knowing your capabilities yet still acknowledging others and thinking you're the shit all the time. He is unknowing of my possible homosexuality, yet he always snatches the girls I am into with his misleading charm. As I cope with the heartbreak, he proceeds to fuck the living shit out of them (trust me-I've heard). Afterwards, he discards them without a second thought. It repulses me.

My parents adore him nonetheless.

I turn into another wide hallway, the maroon double doors leading into the gymnasium at the end of the hall. I hear the loud chatter of the five thousand students attending this school.

My jaw tightens at the thought of my "friends." Depending on perspective, being rich either has many pros or many cons. I see it as having an innumerable amount of downsides: Friends who smooch off of you (apparently if you don't take them out to a five-star restaurant and buy them name brand clothing, you are a "fake friend"), unwanted popularity, high expectations, an expected behavior due to stereotypes, etcetera.

_I hate it._

When Anna and I reach the end of the hallway, I turn to look at her. She is gazing at me intently, as if scrutinizing me. After I snapped back there when Hans was hitting on her, I am not surprised she is apprehensive. However, instead of brushing it aside, I find myself studying her features. Her eyes are a murky blue-green. Freckles pepper her cheeks and nose. I inwardly squeal; freckles are _adorable_. I notice something quite unusual: A single blonde streak in her scarlet hair. I wonder if she was born with it. I admire her height too. She is approximately three inches shorter than me; if we were to hug, her head would rest on my shoulder. I now have the urge to wrap my arms around her. My lips naturally curl into a smile. Her appearance may be childlike, but it is also breathtaking.

I courteously push open the right door, the sound of the students' chatter more prominent. I gesture for her to enter. "After you."

Her calculating expression drops and is replaced by a broad grin. She happily enters the gymnasium, not forgetting to say, "Thank you."

My heart skips a beat and I rush after her. She is not walking very fast; she is gazing at the humongous gym in awe, her mouth gaped open. Thousands of students are seated on the bleachers. "Holy shit," she breathes, alternating her gaze from the entire student body to me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to awe you." I flinch as my brother places a hand on Anna's left hip. He is smirking deviously. Anna immediately tenses up, which boosts my self-esteem.

_See, you make her uncomfortable,_ I think as I direct a glare at my brother. _Now fuck off._

"How're you liking Arendelle High so far?" Hans inquires, fully wrapping an arm around her waist. Disregarding my presence, he leads her towards the bleachers.

My face burns red with rage. How _dare_ he mislead Anna like that! I am about to go after them when a thought enters my mind: _You are being disgusting. And gay._

I bite my lip and hang my head in shame. I cannot believe I let myself slip like that. I must take caution; this crush will blow over quickly.

_Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel,_ I chant to myself as I stride over to where Hans and Anna are. They are sitting at the top of the bleachers. Hans has an arm lazily draped around Anna's shoulders. He is obviously trying to get close to her; I can tell by the way he is rubbing her right leg. Anna's face is bright red.

I feel a dull pang in my chest. I grit my teeth together and ignore it, making my way up the bleachers.

_Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't-_

"Elsa!" Anna gives me a weak smile. "You're here! Yay!"

Hans shrugs. "Meh."

I strain a smile and plant myself beside Anna. I turn to look at her and my eyes widen I see her leading in towards me. My heart is thumping in my chest like a bass drum and dozens of thoughts race through my head. _Is she going to kiss me?_

Instead, she whispers into my ear: "Your brother is very, erm, straightforward." Her warm breath sends shivers down my spine.

I am disappointed that she did not kiss me, but her statement makes me grin. "I know right? Sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's okay. He's nice."

This makes my spirits drop. I shrug; meanwhile my mind is screaming, _No, he is not! He is a sleaze and a jerk and a dickhead! For fuck's sake, he made an unwanted move on you! Doesn't that count as sexual assault or something?_

I console myself once I realize the error of my ways. _Goddammit, Elsa, stop thinking that way,_ I scold myself._ She's obviously straight and into Hans. As much as it hurts you, let it happen. Just let her get hurt. She'll get over it._

As Mr. Oaken begins discussing the new school year, I zone out to my mind repeating, _Conceal, don't feel._

XXX

After the uninteresting assembly, I asked Anna if I could see her schedule. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), we coincidentally have share all of our classes together.

My first thought was_ Are you fucking kidding me?_

Right now it is fourth period-lunch. I am walking towards the cafeteria, five dollars in hand. Normally I indulge in a bag of Lays chips and an ice-cold soda. I enter the cafeteria, the smell of pizza and French fries invading my nostrils. I glimpse at the circular table near the window, the table I usually sit at with all my "friends."

Somebody else catches my eye: Anna, who is awkwardly standing with a full tray off to the side. She is smiling weakly at those who pass by; in return, they ignore her.

I glimpse back at my reserved table. The clique of egotistic girls I hang out with are deep in conversation. Probably talking about nails or something.

I look back at Anna and chuckle at her awkwardness. She is shifting feet and smiling sheepishly.

I shake my head in amusement and approach her. "Need somewhere to sit?"

She yelps in surprise, her face flushing red. "Yes," she admits.

A lightbulb goes off in my head; I grin mischievously. "Well, we don't have to eat in here."

She raises an eyebrow, and before she can ask any questions, I am dragging her out into the hallway, a surge of self-assurance coursing through my veins.

XXX

"Holy shit, there's a garden on the roof?" Anna nearly drops her tray of pizza and milk; she is grinning from ear to ear as she gazes at the school's abandoned garden. It's not completely abandoned-somebody tends to it every once it a while. The garden is a basically a greenhouse on top of the roof. It is small in comparison with the rest of the school. There are numerous rows and shelves of multicolored plants and pots of bonsai trees reside. Vines run down from the ceiling, creating beautiful swirls and twists.

I deeply inhale the scent of dirt and nature. A few windows are open, allowing the sunshine to seep in. I embrace the warmth, although I'd prefer a cool breeze.

"Elsa," Anna says.

I feel my heartbeat race. _You should make out with me. _"Yes?"

"How do you know about this place?"

I smile fondly. "The school had a gardening club last year. I joined for two trimesters. In the last trimester it got cut off."

She juts out her bottom lip in a pout. "But why?"

"Not many people were interested," I inform her, shaking my head.

"Why not?" she demands. I almost chuckle at how upset she genuinely is.

"Don't know. I forgot to ask each student personally."

She smacks my arm playfully. "This is like High School Musical," she comments. She sets her tray down on the ground and observes a lily carefully.

"High School Musical?" I question.

"Yeah, with the garden on the roof. Except that garden was much bigger." She pokes the stem of the plant, eyes widening. "Oh my God, it moves!"

I roll my eyes and follow her as she examines each plant.

"If there isn't a gardening club, why do they keep the garden on the roof?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

She frowns and there is a stab of remorse in my chest. "What did I say about taking my words personally?" I place a hand on her shoulder; electricity expels through my arm and into the rest of my body. "They couldn't demolish it because it's on the roof. It isn't exactly easy to get rid of."

Anna nods and saunters off to the side of the greenhouse. Slowly, she traces her hand down the soft vines. "Beautiful."

I smile as I watch her fascinate over all the nature. "Beautiful is correct."

I am not sure if I am referring to the plants or her.

XXX

At the end of the day, I cannot prevent myself from thinking of Anna.

Although my locker is on the second floor and on the opposite end of the building, I have a strange urge to accompany her. My mind is overcome with the foreign impulse to talk to her, be there for her...protect her.

I slam my eyes shut, banishing my sick thoughts. My voice reverberates in my mind: _Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal, don't feel. Conceal-_

"Elsa!" two obnoxious voices chime in from behind me.

My eyes shoot open and my jaw stiffens. Anastasia and Drizella Tremaine, the snobby sisters. They are not twins (Anastasia is seventeen and Drizella is fifteen), but they greatly resemble each other: Large noses, exquisitely tanned skin, and beady eyes. The only physical difference is that Anastasia has bright red hair (which she dyed) and Drizella has dark brown hair. Aside from their appearances, their personalities are similar. Both are unbearably snobby and rude, although Drizella is the more tolerable one of the two.

"Ana. Drizella. Nice to see you." _Please don't talk to me._

"Hey! Guess what tomorrow is?" Ana asks for the umpteenth time.

I grab my blue purse from my locker, occupying my hands so they cannot strangle her. "Your eighteenth birthday," I answer, forcing a giggle.

She beams. "God, I can't wait to turn eighteen!" She leans against the locker beside me, sighing dreamily. "I'll be an adult-freedom and no rules! Plus, I'll be able to get my own place." She elbows her sister with a wink.

Drizella rolls her eyes. "And because our parents are rich, she doesn't even have to work for it."

Ana smirks. "Maybe I'll find some _adult romance_." She winks suggestively.

The youngest Tremaine shudders in disgust and my heart skips a beat at "romance." To my own horror, the word reminds me of Anna-not _icky_ Ana, but _pretty_ Anna.

"I have to go somewhere," I announce, closing my locker. I glimpse up at the wall clock. Three twenty-six. Four minutes until the buses arrive to retrieve us.

Drizella casts me a weird look. "Where?"

I wave my hand dismissively. "Somewhere important." Without allowing them to press me further, I dart past them and weave through the thick crowd of students. My imposing appearance makes students instinctively move out of the way for me, so traveling across the entire school is easy.

I rush down the stairs and my throat dries when I see her: Anna, hastily shoving her books into her locker, her face burning red with embarrassment. I stride towards her; she is immersed in getting her stuff in time that she is oblivious of my presence.

I smirk impishly and bang my fist against the metal locker beside hers. The clanging sound resounds throughout the hallway, and Anna jumps and yelps.

When she sees it is me, she gives me a lighthearted glare. "You're such a wonderful person," she drawls sarcastically, collecting her algebra textbook and shoving it into her backpack. "Punching lockers and scaring weak-hearted people and whatnot."

I wink; this causes her flush crimson red. I feel my face heating up as well, but not as much as my heart is. "How was your first first day at Arendelle High?" I inquire.

She shrugs. "It was okay, at the most. Arendelle, though...such a disgraceful name."

I know she is joking, but her words are a reminder that one day, I will be responsible for this town. It will be my duty to run this school, manage the budget, and keep this place thriving. I will have to take on a job I do not want.

I must have conveyed my pain somehow, because Anna gently places her hand on my arm. It is intended to be comforting, but I imagine my parents' disappointed faces and I recede my arm.

"Totally," I agree flatly, straining a smile. From behind her, Hans is grinning smugly.

_Jesus fucking Christ, Elsa. _

* * *

**A/N: If you're wondering, Anastasia and Drizella are Cinderella's stepsisters.**


	3. BoObS

**Anna. **

I cannot sleep at all, and obviously it is not because of the crappy mattress.

The memory of my first day at Arendelle High has been continuously replaying in my head. Most of those memories consist of Elsa.

I can't deny that she is _incredibly_ beautiful. But her behavior was a bit odd. One second she would be relaxed, the next tense. And it would be because of something I'd said.

The guilt jabs into my lower abdomen. I shift in the horrible air mattress as I try to drift into slumber. But I find myself staring at the ceiling, my eyes wide and alert.

These emotions are completely foreign to me. Well, sort of. I know it is normal to be attracted to somebody, but I have never been infatuated with guys as much I have been with girls. My instinct tells me it should be vice versa.

_Maybe you should try to date a guy._ I fold my arms behind my head and stare at the ceiling._ Then hopefully the really weird feelings will disappear. _

_But who?_

I contemplate the question momentarily before I come to a conclusion: _Hans_.

He displayed obvious attraction towards me today, so if I show that I like him (do I actually like him?) back, then getting a boyfriend will be a piece of cake. He may be overwhelming and apparently a huge jerk, but maybe he can improve on those.

A small fraction of my brain is screaming, "But Elsa!"

I frown. I feel remorseful for planning on pursuing Hans when I know about Elsa's hatred of him. Elsa is my friend, and I do not want to lose her so quickly. She has a weird kind of importance to me.

_Is Elsa my friend? _I wonder. She helped me with my locker, she showed me that spectacular garden.

But am _I_ her friend? I'm trying to go after her _brother_. That's a pretty low move.

I yawn. "Ugh, it's time to get to sleep, Anna," I tell myself softly, adjusting my fluffy pillow and resting my head on it. And then you can think through the Hans-Elsa thing.

I smile contentedly as I am slowly drifting off into slumber. _Elsa..._

XXX

Once I enter the school, Hans ambushes me.

He slides an arm around my waist and pulls me towards him. I press my hand against his hip to increase our proximity; I want to get close, but not _that_ close.

He leans in close. "Hey."

His warm breath makes a shiver go down my spine. I shudder and he interprets it as a good sign.

"Hi," I say back. He grins smugly and begins talking about something I do not pay attention to. My eyes are darting around as I skim the hallway, searching for sign of Elsa.

Nothing.

"Where's Elsa?" I ask urgently, cutting Hans off. I know I am supposed to be listening to him, but my heart sinks when I can't find Elsa anywhere.

Hans raises an eyebrow. "Her locker is at the complete opposite end of the building," he tells me. "But she's here."

I internally sigh in relief. Elsa is my first acquaintance/possible friend here. I don't think I would survive the second day without her.

"Anyway, how're you feeling?" Hans waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "More specifically, how're you feeling with me?"

There is an emotion stirring throughout my whole body, and it's definitely not affection. It is a sinking, nauseating feeling that makes my face grow hot.

_Jesus fucking Christ, you're getting male attention. You're supposed to be liking this. _

"Amazing." I smile, but it feels forced.

_Elsa. Elsa. Elsa. _

I dismiss the alien thoughts and continue the conversation: "So, you're seventeen?" I rest my hand on his chest as an attempt to flirt; his eyes gleam with what I assume is (sexual) desire. "You're a senior, right?"

"Yup," he replies. He smirks. _Okay, does this guy have a face condition or something? He smirks an unhealthy amount._

"You know, I've heard that some girls-sixteen-year-old redheads, for example-are in need of an older, more mature man."

_Sixteen-year-old redheads? Oh..._

My face flushes red; the emotion I am feeling has now been labeled as _uncomfortable_.

We were casually strolling down the hall as we talked; now, we are nearing the hallway that houses my locker. I take this as an opportunity to slip from his grasp.

"Hey, um, I've gotta go." I jerk my head towards my locker and begin to them around.

_Wait, you have to show him that you like him._

"But I'll give you a call later," I add, and he smirks yet again.

His mocha eyes are twinkling in satisfaction. Then he frowns. "Wait, I don't have your number."

But I am already halfway down the hall, and I am not willing to them around just to scribble my number down. _Do you even _remember_ your number?_

"I said I'd call you!" I yell back. "Jesus Christ..."

I completely round the corner, and my stomach does a somersault when I see a familiar head of platinum blonde hair patiently waiting beside my locker.

I grin, and this one feels more natural. I move against the congregation of students, occasionally apologizing for stepping on a stray foot or knocking somebody over. When I finally arrive at my locker, multiple glares are being directed my way and Elsa is shaking her head amusedly.

Her hair is in a loose braid like it was yesterday. Her outfit is different (jean jacket, plain t-shirt, ripped jeans, and Vans), but the color scheme is the same: Artic blues and blizzard whites.

"God, you are so uncoordinated," she snickers.

I roll my eyes and spin my combination. My locker creaks open and I begin gathering my necessities for my first three classes: Math, gym, and Spanish I. After those three is lunch, and then language arts, cooking (my elective), history, and lastly physics.

"You try pushing against a wave of brainless teenagers," I quip, choosing my words carefully. I do not want to upset her like I did yesterday. "I've always had two left feet anyway. I'm used to the remarks."

"Well, you aren't gonna enjoy gym class today," Elsa tells me, a smug grin on her lips. Her smirk has the opposite feel than her brother's; while his conveys self-satisfaction and arrogance, hers is playful.

I close my locker and my heart almost stops beating. I'm not sure if it's because of the seemingly bad news or the fact her icy blue eyes and piercing right through my soul. "Why?" I manage out.

"Because the 'physical' in 'physical education' starts today."

My eyes widen. "But it's the second day of school!" I exclaim, earning the attention of students nearby. I grab Elsa by the shoulders-her eyes widen as well and a tingly sensation shoots though my arms and warms my heart-and shake her. "Why the hell do we have actual gym on the second day or school?"

Elsa does not answer me; her eyes are squeezed shut and she is biting her lip enough to draw blood. Her cheeks are a light pink.

I release my grip on her shoulders and stuff my hands into the pockets of my purple sweatshirt. "Elsa?" I prompt uncertainly. Fear overcomes me; what if I've done something to irritate her? What if she's upset again? "Elsa?"

At the sound of her name, she opens her eyes and clears her throat. Her face is back to its pale complexion.

"Welcome to Arendelle High," she says with a shrug.

XXX

When the gym teacher, Mr. Miller, gave us the chance to choose where our gym lockers would be, I had selected the locker right next to Elsa's. She was a bit flustered, but she did not seem to mind. However, now I am not sure if it was the right choice.

My eyes are glued to Elsa's, erm, boobs. I don't know why, but I can't divert my gaze. It's like watching somebody die right in front of you: You want to look away, but you can't.

Except these are _boobs_.

I feel heat rise to my cheeks and I immediately tear my gaze away. Luckily, Elsa is too busy correcting her inside-out gym shirt to notice me staring.

As I slide my jeans off and snatch a pair of basketball shorts, I reprimand myself: _Anna! It's rude to stare, especially at somebody's rack! _

It takes a concerning amount of effort not to glance back. I slide on the gym shorts and place my jeans into my tiny, cubby-like gym locker. I grab my gym t-shirt (which has ARENDELLE HIGH printed onto the front along with the school's mascot, a knight) from the bench behind me.

As much as my mind is screaming at me not to, I glimpse back at Elsa.

_BoObS. _

And holy shit, she isn't wearing pants either. Her half inside-out shirt is balled up and resting at her feet. She is just in her white bra and panties. (The word "panties" makes me feel weird.) She is neatly her street clothes and placing them inside her locker.

Then, to my horror, her head turns and her vibrant eyes are staring right into mine.

_Goddammit, Anna, you are not supposed to be staring at Elsa like that! Now she's going to think you're creepy and she won't talk to you anymore!_

_Oh yeah, and there's that thing with Hans..._

My mouth is agape, my cheeks a furious red. Her cheeks are pink as well, but prominently darker than they were when she was supposedly blushing yesterday. _Great-now she's _really_ blushing. _

After fifteen seconds of gawking at her, the situation hits me and I begin to ramble: "Erm, you look awesome! I mean, you usually look great-even though I've known you for almost two days, but I'm certain you look great on a daily basis-but standing in this locker room, with the lighting above you"-I gesture to the light above her-"and that outfit, you look _spectacular_."

Within two seconds, I realize what I have said, and I want to slam my head against the wall.

Elsa's blush is no secret now. She awkwardly smiles at me and says a thank you, but her eyes convey something other than gratefulness.

It is not terror. It is not disgust. It is fear.

Her eyes are distinctively darker now; she thanks me again, quietly, and resumes changing into her gym clothes.

The guilt makes my heart sink.

_Awesome job. You upset her. _

XXX

However, during third period, Elsa had returned to her normal behavior. Unfortunately, I was unable to talk to her for the whole period because she was surrounded by numerous girls, all clad in chic summer dresses and adorning jewelry.

_Whoa,_ I had thought. _Elsa never stuck me as the popular type. _

_Well, maybe it's because she's talking to your stupid ass for you to see her other friends. _

Although her well-known friends have a kind and approachable exterior, the conversations they have show otherwise: Endless gossiping, fawning over their boyfriends. I couldn't help but grin when I saw Elsa roll her eyes at half of Ariel's comments.

Now it is lunchtime. Initially I had planned to swipe Elsa from the popular girls, but the blonde beauty is sitting at a round table right next to a gigantic window overlooking the parking lot. In fact, the whole outside wall is just one big window.

My eyes graze each round table, only to find almost each one fully occupied. The ones that aren't full have students glaring at me, a tacit way of saying, _Fuck off._

All except for one table has students looking at me as if I'm scum, and it's the single round table at the corner of the room. There are only two occupants: A girl with blonde hair down to her waist and another girl with an untamed auburn mane.

I smile. _Well, Elsa can't be my only friend._

I inwardly cross my fingers as I awkwardly stride over to the table. The blonde glances up at me, her green eyes wide and curious, but she settles into a smile.

She nudges her curly-haired friend, who looks up just as I set my tray down on the table. Some of her curly locks swept over her vibrant eyes.

"Can I sit here?" I ask politely. _Oh God, is it Wednesday? Please don't quote Mean Girls..._

The blonde nods eagerly; her cheeks are pink, but they seem to be natural. "Sure."

I smile gratefully and take a seat. The blonde is wearing a purple sundress, while her friend is sporting a green t-shirt and jeans.

The blonde holds out her hand. "My name's Elizabeth."

The redhead snorts. "Rapunzel," she corrects; she has a thick Scottish accent, so I assume she is a transfer. "Her real name's Elizabeth, but we all call her Rapunzel. You can tell why." She jerks her head and glimpses at her friend's golden locks pointedly.

Rapunzel rolls her eyes. "And that unpleasant person over there is Merida," she tells me. "She moved her from Scotland two years ago."

"And I've still got the accent!" Merida grins.

"I'm Anna," I introduce, shaking Rapunzel's hand. I must have gripped too enthusiastically, because she winces.

I withdraw my hand and look at her apologetically. "Sorry. I'm new here and I'm just really excited to make new friends."

Rapunzel grins. "You've come to the right people, then."

"Takes a lot of courage to walk up to two random people when you're a new student," Merida murmurs, as if she is analyzing my words. She nods in approval, reaching into her brown lunch bag and pulling out a Hershey's bar.

I do not acknowledge her admiration, though-my eyes are set on the chocolate bar, my mouth watering and my eyes wide.

Rapunzel glances at the chocolate bar, and then at me. "I see you like chocolate."

"_Love_," I amend. I lick my lips, earning a hearty laugh from Merida. "God, I love chocolate."

Merida places the tempting bar of goodness on the table and slides it over to me. I immediately catch it, desperately tear off the wrapper, and bite into it. The sweet, rich taste seeps into my taste buds and I moan in delight.

"That's going to be useful," Merida remarks, her blue eyes gleaming. They vaguely remind me of Elsa. "You know, for gettin' you to do stuff."

I smile at my two new friends.

* * *

**Sorry for the late update! I've spent the whole day writing some other stuff and editing this!**


	4. Winter

**Elsa. **

It is now mid-September, and Anna has not overgrown my mind.

Right now I am in my bedroom. My clothing is strewn all over my carpet as I try to determine which outfit Anna would like the most.

I snatch a light blue jumper and a white jumper identical to the blue one. My eyes furrow together as they flicker between the two. _Which one would Anna like more? _

I sigh in frustration and discard the two articles of clothing on the floor. I bury my face in my hands and slide down against my dresser.

_Why the hell am I trying to impress her so much?_ I stare at the pile of clothes on my floor angrily, as if they will return back to their proper places if I stare hard enough.

All of my clothes are either a chilling light blue or white-my two favorite colors. Maybe I favor these two colors so much because they remind me so much of winter.

Practically everybody I know loathes the winter season, but I absolutely adore it. It's unforgiving and harsh and drains the life out of everything, but its cruelty is beautiful.

There is a soft knock on my door. "Elsa?" my mother's voice calls. "Are you in there?"

I pull myself to my feet and exit my walk-in closet. I pass my four-poster bed (which is covered in a white blanket with snowflakes on it) to get to the door. I swing it open, and my mother is standing there, staring down at me sternly.

She resembles me greatly: White-blonde hair, blue eyes, practically colorless skin. Light freckles pepper her nose and cheeks just like me. However, although we look nearly identical, our personalities clash greatly. Her role as mayor has made her as harsh and unforgiving as winter. To her, your personality is not what defines you as a person; instead, it is your grades and appearance.

She eyes me calculatingly. If Anna was in my place right now, she would be trembling. But I am so accustomed to the judgmental looks that they no longer affect me.

"Elsa, it is eleven o' clock," she says. "You have to wake up for school in approximately six hours. Why are you still up?"

_Because I'm trying to impress a girl I'm not supposed to like._ "I don't know."

My mother shakes her head. "_Tsk tsk tsk._ Time for you to get to bed." And with that, she shuts the door to my room and her footsteps fade away. I hear her open the door to Hans's room and I can imagine her smiling fondly at her most cherished child.

My heart burning with envy, I flick my lights off and trudge over to my bed. Once my body sinks into the soft mattress, a thought enter my mind.

_Blue jumper. Anna would like the blue jumper more. _

XXX

As I am walking to the school, I see Anna walking with her two new friends.

A month earlier, when I was dragged away by Anastasia (something I will never allow to happen to me again), Anna had to sit next to two new people: A long-haired girl ironically dubbed Rapunzel and a redhead with freckles all over her face. All I know about the redhead is that she is a Scottish transfer.

Anna still talks to me, but she spends most of her free time with those two. Sometimes my jealousy is not directed towards Hans, but burns more for those two. How they earn more of her attention than me nowadays.

_And I should not get jealous over a girl I cannot like. _

"Conceal, don't feel," I murmur under my breath. Hans leaves my side and rushes to Anna, his arm wrapping around her waist. His actions only make me scream the three words inside my mind.

Anna tenses up at his touch; the Scottish girl reprimands him, but his arm remains around her waist. Rapunzel is glaring daggers at him.

Then Anna cranes her neck back, and her warm blue-green eyes meet my blue ones. She smiles awkwardly, her hand giving me a small wave.

My heart is now warm with affection, not envy. I smile back.

XXX

"Hey," Anna greets me at the end of the day. Now we are in science class-by _we_, I mean me and Anna. Just us. _Alone. _

I'd kill to have more alone time with her.

I mess with the collar of my jumper subconsciously._ Don't say anything stupid._ "Hey."

"How's it going?" she questions, placing her binder down on my next beside my folders. "We haven't talked in a while." She frowns. "Well, we _have_ talked, but not really _talk_ talked. Like, first-two-days-of-school talked. I really miss talking to you, and now I'm talking too much." Her face is crimson red. "I'll stop talking now."

_God, her rambling is literally the most adorable thing ever. _"It's fine," I lie with a feeble smile. _Jesus fucking Christ, it is _not_ fine. My brother-who is a douchebag, as I have informed you before-is trying to get in your pants. You have two new friends, whom you spend more time with. All of the times we've talked have been "how is the weather?" conversations. Not. Fine. _

Her eyebrows knit together worriedly. Then a sly smile plays onto her lips.

She grabs my right arm, and a loving emotion charges throughout my body, fueling me. "We should go to the garden again," she suggests, but telling by the pleading look in her eyes-_those fucking eyes_-it's a request.

Despite my mind screeching at me to stop, to stop admiring her, to stop being so _gay_, to conceal, don't feel, I answer, "Yes."

The broad grin that spreads across her lips makes this hasty decision worth it.

XXX

So one hour after the dismissal bell rings, I am sitting cross-legged on the greenhouse floor with Anna, adoring a lily with her.

Her knee gently brushes mine every now and then; I cannot suppress the blush that creeps onto my face when it does.

Her eyes are wide. She pokes the flower several times, its stem swaying lightly each time.

_The lily is the most lesbian flower,_ I think smugly as she continues studying the plant. She then elbows my side; I tense up, and instinctively scoot over.

"Elsa, it's so pretty," she states breathlessly. "Who knew nature could be so pretty?"

I bite back a retort and reply, "Not just nature."

She raises an eyebrow. "Then what else is pretty? I'm sure many other things in this room are." She bites her lips, seemingly contemplating something. "And not all of them are plants."

_HOLY SHIT WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO SAY_

I clear my throat and shift around awkwardly, trying my best to conceal my inner freak-out. "Seasons. Seasons are considerably attractive."

She looks me questioningly. "Seasons are nature...?"

I wave my mind dismissively. "Sure. But here's this one season I find particularly more attractive than the others."

She leans back against the leg of a table, arms crossed. "Explain."

I gulp, begging my emotions to not show in the form of a blush. "Well, this season is winter," I begin. She smiles, and I take it as a good sign. "I like so much because it's cold."

"No way," she says sarcastically, and I glare at her jokingly.

"Not _cold_ cold, but _harsh_ cold," I clarify, and she nods. "It's heartless and takes the life out of everything. But the way the snow falls from the sky and blankets the ground with white...the way everything returns to life after a difficult time..." I smile. "I think it's beautiful."

She is silent for a moment, and my heart is pounding against my ribs. I fear that I've shared too much.

_Conceal, don't feel, dammit. _

Finally, she grins and says, "You wouldn't get along with my brother so well, then."


	5. Coming Out (Kinda)

**Anna. **

One thing I regret is dealing with my alcoholic father for so long. Another thing I regret is giving Hans my number.

Ever since we exchanged numbers a month ago-back in August-he has been sending me an endless innuendo text messages. I swear to God, the only two sentences he can construct are "haha" and "what are you wearing?"

My plan _is_ to date him and banish those awkward feelings for Elsa, but he needs to hold his horses. I would rather not have to depend on my two closest friends to ward him off.

Speaking of my two closest friends, Rapunzel and Merida are the two people I have trusted the most-besides Kristoff and Olaf, of course-in my entire life. In this past month, we've learned a lot about each other: Rapunzel has this dangerous craving for adventure and Merida has three younger (and wild) brothers and contrastingly strict parents. Rapunzel has a gecko-lizard thing named Pascal, whom is always on her shoulder whenever she is at home. Merida has never really had a crush on anybody before. (In my opinion, it's better than being confused about who you like. My situation is fairly sucky.)

But although they are my closest-maybe _best_-friends so far, Elsa has this odd sort of aura about her; I have known her for a mere month, I have talked to her a decent amount (but not as much as we were in the first two days of school), yet I feel as if I can trust her with anything. She is calming to be around, always cool and collected. It's weird to describe somebody like that, but it isn't a lie.

A shiver travels down my spine. The garden on the roof, two hours ago. I might have hinted that I thought she is prettier than the flowers. And like my previous statement, it is not a lie. Appearance and personality-wise, she _is_ attractive.

I really liked the blue jumper she was wearing, too. It matches her skin tone well.

As I am sitting cross-legged on the mattress attempting to dismiss Elsa from my mind as my homework lays abandoned, Kristoff enters my room. He leans against the doorframe, and I notice that his hair is slightly disheveled and his flannel shirt has buttons in the wrong holes. He yawns.

"Long day at the animal hospital?" I inquire smugly. He casts me an annoyed look before answering:

"Yup. Some dog threw up all its meds in the lobby. Guess who had to clean it up?" He asks the question miserably, and I giggle because I already know the answer to it. He is attending an online college to become a veterinarian, but he is also working in a animal hospital a few blocks away to help support us. His role isn't exactly honorable-he's some sort of janitor, cleaning up after dog shit and whatnot. The job isn't high-paying, either, but it's enough.

"You know what, don't answer," he snaps playfully. Despite his joking manner, he shudders. "God, that barf messed me up."

"That's what you get for working with animals," I point out.

He frowns, eyebrow arched as he analyzes me disgustedly. "This is what I get for our parents having sex."

I know it should not bother me, but the sentence provokes a dull, throbbing pain in my chest. The past is in the past-the hell we went through with my father is history. But it's hard to stop craving the attention you never received.

Kristoff notices my pain, and he immediately rushes over to my side. He plops down on the mattress beside me and rubs my back soothingly. "Shit, Anna, sorry for triggering those memories," he apologizes. The softness in his voice lets me know he is being genuine. "It was just a joke, but I guess I should stop joking about certain things."

I shake my head; all it is is a dull throbbing in my chest. I am not going to cry. "Kristopher, you really need to state some sort of trigger warning before you say things. Maybe that's why you've never had a girlfriend before."

His expression is now half-sympathetic, half-irritation. "Kristoff," he corrects agitatedly. "And I've never had a girlfriend because, and I quote the words of this girl I once asked out, 'I smell like reindeer.'" He shrugs, a baffled expression on his face. It makes me chuckle. "Sorry if my unhygienic habits ward you off."

I lean against his arm and nuzzle my face into his shoulder. I inhale deeply; his scent is a mix between fresh air and something absolutely horrendous. It has always reminded me of the forest and the outdoors and nature.

I pull my face away from his body and play an exaggerated frown on my lips. "You smell like shit." And it's true.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Whatever. I don't think odors are exactly _that_ attractive."

In that moment, I wonder what Elsa smells like. Based off of what I know about her, she would probably smell minty, cool and fresh. Not only because she's just a cool person is general with her popularity, but also because she _loves_ the winter. I can tell by the way her eyes lit up earlier when she was talking about its devastating beauty and the way her lips curled into a smile, the widest smile I had ever seen from her. I could tell by the passion burning in her eyes, the same kind of passion Kristoff has when he talks about obliterating puppy mills because they mistreat the dogs or Olaf has when he talks about swimming in a beach in the summer or maybe even me when I see chocolate. It is a certain sharpness in their eyes and a brightness in their expression.

And all I want to do know is hold Elsa in my arms so I can smell her.

My heterosexual-wired conscience kicks in: _Jesus Christ, stop being gay! What would Hans smell like? _

_Probably of Axe, because that's what douchebag smells like. _

Now I am torn between facepalming myself and giving myself a high-off.

"Who's Elsa and who's Hans? And why do you want to smell them?"

_Damn my tendency to ramble unwittingly._

I prop my elbows onto my knees and rest my chin on my hands, stalling so I can think of a plausible response. I turn to look at my perplexed brother. "Elsa is a girl I met on the first day of school. Hans is a guy I met, too." Before Kristoff asks the second question, I reply, "And I'm just curious."

"Of scents?" Kristoff shakes his head at me. "Anyway, are these two people insane? You know, like Merida and Rapunzel?"

I smile widely, remembering the first time my two friends came over. Rapunzel had swiped over frying pan and ran around the house like a madman, Olaf right behind her. When Kristoff entered my room to confront us about why we were so rambunctious, Merida assembled a bow and arrow out of a rubber band and pencil and let it fly. My eyes subconsciously run over the wall to the left of my bed, where a pencil is still embedded into the wood.

"They're a lot more civilized, actually," I answer honestly. "Elsa and Hans Arendelle, descendants of the founders of this town."

Kristoff's eyes widen and he tilts his head skeptically. "So wait," he begins, "you're trying to tell me that these sophisticated people with morals actually _choose_ to be around you?" He tries to keep his look confused, but a faint smile is visible on his lips.

I roll my eyes and lightly punch his shoulder. "Yes."

"Then you better stay on their good side," my brother advises. "This town is pretty much its own little government." He chuckles. "Its own little North Korea..."

I am about to reprimand him for making a terrible joke, but Olaf bounds into the room. He suddenly slips on a t-shirt haphazardly placed in front of the door and falls to the ground with a thud.

My hand flies over my mouth and Kristoff leaps to the rescue. "Whoa there, buddy," he croons softly as he gingerly helps our youngest brother into his feet. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"

Olaf does not look hurt at all; there is a wide smile grin on his lips, and I am sure his eyes would be smiling as well behind the dark sunglasses he is wearing. "Nope! My head can never hurt!"

"Why's that-"

"I don't have a skull," Olaf cuts him off abruptly. All mirth has left his expression and it is now one of pure seriousness. "Or bones."

About thirty seconds pass before Kristoff replies with an uncertain "Okay then." He shakes his head vigorously, a habit he does when he is trying to dismiss an unwanted thought. "Alright. Anyway, is there anything you want to say?"

Olaf's grin returns to his face and I just notice the multicolored beach shirt he is wearing. "It's summer!" he announces, and as quickly as he arrived, he leaves. His joyous cries reverberate through the walls.

Kristoff looks at me with a weary smile. "Should we go chase after him?"

"Probably," I respond. With a nod tacitly agreeing to do so, we sprint after my summer-loving brother.

For a while, I forget about my father and Hans.

XXX

"Hans seems like a creep, to be honest," Rapunzel remarks, ripping off and piece of a bread roll and popping it in her mouth.

I am hungrily unwrapping a chocolate bar Merida has given me. Usually I would be completely inattentive at this point, but I have learned to spare some of my attention to my friends. If my mouth is too full of chocolate to thank them, acknowledging them is a way to show gratitude.

"Yeah," Merida agrees. She takes a long sip from her Coke can before setting it down and elaborating: "He is the most over-sexual guy I know, and I don't even know him that well. Trust me-you weren't around to witness, but he treats _every_ girl like they're a queen."

I swallow the melted chocolate in my mouth. "Well, I don't see why that's bad-"

"The he fucks them," Rapunzel finishes. My heart heart sinks. "Hard. And after he fucks them, he dumps them just as hard." She takes a bite out of her pizza, still talking while she chews. "I don't understand why anyone would like him."

There is this painful urge in my heart to tell them how I feel about him. It is not coaxing or reassuring, but it is more demanding, aggressive. Instead of whispering "they have the right to know" in my head, it is screaming, "THEY MUST KNOW OF YOUR HETEROSEXUALITY!"

And although I have only known them for a month, they are my two closest friends. They seem to be the nonjudgmental type as well, so I guess I'm safe.

"Erm...speaking of Hans and liking." I pause and Merida shoots me an impatient look. "Maybe I like him. _Maybe_. I mean, he's cute, I guess, and he's smooth and funny and he texts me really cute stuff like 'send me a pic' and he smells _spectacular_-Axe, the smell of douchebag. On a scale from one to ten, he would be a five and a half, maybe a six point two on more generous days-"

"Anna," Rapunzel interrupts me. Her interruption makes me take a moment to wonder of my words were genuine.

I study my friends' expressions, praying for positive responses. Instead, they lack any emotion whatsoever: No reassuring smiles or disapproving frowns. I am not sure if this soothes my anxiety or not.

Rapunzel and Merida exchange deadpan glances, and a furrow in Rapunzel's eyebrows seems to be an unspoken way of saying something.

"Anna," Rapunzel finally says, "we're your friends. And as friends, it is our duty to always be there for each other regardless. We aren't going to stop talking to you just because we think your crush is a dick." She smiles, a relieving expression that relaxes my muscles.

"Plus, you can't help who you like," Merida adds; her tone is not self-assured like it always is, but rather self-doubtful. She is talking slowly, as if carefully running through her words. And this is something Merida _never_ does-usually she is confident in herself. Despite her strongly for stepping out of your comfort zone, she seems uncomfortable.

Rapunzel has seemed to notice Merida's out-of-character behavior also. She glimpses between the two of us and rubs her hands together anxiously.

"We're your friends," Merida continues. "We haven't been friends since the age of the dinosaurs, but we've been friends long enough to care. Liking Douchetard"-Rapunzel clears her throat-"I mean, _Hans_ is totally your choice and something you can't control. We just don't want you to get hurt." Rapunzel nods earnestly and the cheerful smile returns to her face. Merida strains a confident grin, but it isn't real enough. Obviously she is uncomfortable with this, but she has my support-and it is an amazing feeling, knowing that two other people, two people I have known for barely a month support me. This trust and attention is something I seldom received as a kid.

I throw my arms around them both, their heads bumping against each other's as they mash together. My mouth still full of chocolate, I manage out about a thousand thank you's.

After about thirty seconds and some odd looks, Merida playfully pushes me away, a real smile on her face now. "Okay, that's enough. Don't get _too_ excited."

"Yeah, we accepted your crush on Hans, not your coming out," Rapunzel snorts.

And the guilt pools into my stomach at once, and I feel like I am about to vomit. _Elsa. Hans. Feelings. Gay_. Even though I just told them the truth, I feel like a liar.

_Anna, Hans is a great guy. He's smooth, witty, _and_ he gives you attention. That's all you need._

I wave my hand dismissively, struggling to keep a smile on my face. "Same thing."

Rapunzel snickers and elbows my side suggestively. "Hey, how about we leave lunch a few minutes early? Maybe we can catch Hans in the hallway." Merida _ooh's_ and I roll my eyes.

"Fine," I agree. "But don't pull off any sneaky shit."

As we flee the cafeteria, I manage a quick glance at Elsa. But a quick glance is all I get, because I am pulled out into the hallway and dragged down the corridor to God knows where. I am distraught, because all I can feel now is the guilt that should not exist.

* * *

**A/N: I just want to say thank you to whoever follows or favorites or comments or just reads this story! You all are awesome!**

**Anyway, updates may be coming in quite slowly-it takes me a while to think up of ideas and then write them down. Plus, fucking homework. Like damn.**


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